


no-one can replicate her smile

by orphan_account



Series: lovely little ladies in love [1]
Category: Lovely Little Losers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This won't be forever,” Freddie tells Jaquie after the party, in the kitchen. “Just for as long it takes for everyone to get their shit together.” </p><p>Jaquie grimaces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no-one can replicate her smile

**Author's Note:**

> written for lovely little femslash day 1, "secret dating". title from dorothy dandridge eyes by janelle monae.

Freddie meets Jaquie at a coffee shop, like some sort of cliche romcom.

“Hey, Freds,” Kit says, gesturing her over; a girl stands in front of the counter, a takeaway cup in her hands. Freddie walks over, watched by Kit’s bright eyes and the girl’s tired ones.

“This,” Kit says, grandly, “is the brilliant Jaquie Manders.”

“Um,” is all Freddie can come up with. “Hi? I’m Freddie. Freddie Kingston.”

Jaquie Manders gives her a small smile; Freddie feels clumsy and weird. “I know,” Jaquie replies, sounding bemused. “We’re both here alone, so Kit came to the conclusion that we should be here alone together.”

“Amazing logic there,” Freddie says wryly. “But you shouldn’t burden this poor girl with me. Besides, I’m studying—flat’s not a great studying environment right now— so I’ll be horrible company.”

“Hey, no worries, I’ll just sit at your table and listen to music while you work, so we don’t both look like loners. I’m just waiting for a call, anyway,” Jaquie assures her; her tone is bored, monotone, but Freddie’s getting the feeling that’s just how she talks. Her dark eyes are kind enough; the mood Peter’s been in, she knows hostility when she sees it, knows when someone wants to be left alone.

Jaquie looks content enough to be burdened with her; Kit’s grinning from across the counter, smug in a way that’s endearing instead of obnoxious. Kit has that way about him.

Jaquie does exactly what she says she will; she sits at Freddie’s table, curled up in an armchair next to the window, listening to music. She picks dirt from underneath her nails, occasionally hums along to whatever song she’s listening to.

Freddie, against all odds, is comfortable; usually she gets worked up and nervous with strangers, too formal or fumbling over her words or stilted to the point of rudeness. She asks Jaquie what song she’s listening to a few times—most of them she doesn’t know, but one was Janelle Monae and Freddie couldn’t help her beam of approval, which led to Jaquie handing her an earphone—but she doesn’t feel the usual painful need to fill the silence.

The flat and the situation she’s in with her flatmates has left her stressed and wound up; for the first time in weeks, she feels at ease.

Jaquie uncurls from her chair eventually; it’s late afternoon now and they’ve both been through several cups of coffee and a free donut courtesy of Kit.

“We should do this again sometime,” she says, hand bushing Fred’s shoulder and placing a napkin in front of her with one of her subtle smiles.

It’s not until she’s left that Freddie realizes it’s her number.

+

They text back and forth. Strangely, they don’t talk a lot about their lives. Jaquie is in a play, she learns, and Fred occasionally complains about the awkwardness of the flat, but nothing more than that.

Instead, they talk about films (Jaquie becomes one of the only people to know of her love for Bollywood films and, on a rare afternoon where she has the flat to herself, she subjects her to Bride and Prejudice; Jaquie likes indie flicks and foreign films, but they find predictable common ground on Lord Of The Rings), music (other than Janelle Monae, they both enjoy Bowie and old jazz) and books (they’re both sci-fi girls, it turns out, despite their love for Tolkien). They meet up at Boyet’s, though Jaquie becomes busy with rehearsals and Fred with flat drama.

It’s good, though; Freddie doesn’t do this a lot, she's too anxious, too neurotic, and Jaquie's a low energy introvert, but somehow it works for them.

+

“No dating,” Ben says and Freddie doesn’t even _think_.

“Nothing close to dating,” Ben says and Freddie doesn’t think of Jaquie’s shoulder against hers on the couch while they watch films, doesn’t think of their hands brushing as they both reach for a packet of sugar at Boyet’s, doesn’t think about Jaquie sending her Youtube videos of indie love songs with indecipherable lyrics that make her heart stutter anyway.

“No flirting or flings or casual makeout sessions. No hand-holding. No flatmate’s lips are to touch anybody else’s lips.”

Freddie doesn’t think about Jaquie putting on lipgloss, or her dark eyes, or how her breathing stops for a beat when she smiles.

+

Jaquie kisses her soft and chaste, her hand on her shoulder the only thing keeping Fred steady, on her couch in the middle of Pacific Rim.

“Oh fuck,” Freddie breathes out the second they break apart. “We’re dating, aren’t we?”

“Um,” Jaquie says. “Yeah?”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. That’s against the rules.”

“Um,” Jaquie says again. On the screen, Idris Elba tells the scientist—the guy from Torchwood and half a dozen other things—to shut up. Freddie lets her head fall back onto the back of the sofa with a groan.

+

Jaquie doesn’t smile while she’s explaining or afterwards either. She fixes her with an unimpressed look and says, “That’s the stupidest, most unnecessarily dramatic thing I have ever heard.”

“The flat was falling apart; Peter and Stan have obvious issues and Peter keeps falling out with Ben and—”

“I could just talk to Peter—”

“No, no. He can’t know I want to back out—or that I’m breaking the rules, shit! He’ll be all smug and rub it in my face and—ugh!” Freddie buries her face into Jaquie’s shoulder; she hears Jaquie sigh above her and echoes the sigh when she feels her run her fingers through her hair.

“Well, we’ve been hanging out for weeks and they haven’t questioned it,” Jaquie points out, sounding slightly less pissed than she was. Freddie feels relieved and guilty in equal measure. “We could just carry on. They don’t know you like girls, so they probably won’t guess.”

“No, I guess not. I’m not ashamed of you, though, you know that right? It’s just a flat thing, not a you thing.”

“Eloquent,” Jaquie deadpans, but Freddie hears—she hopes—a hint of fondness. “Of course I know, dummy. Now shut up and let’s watch Mako kick ass.”

+

Freddie wants to dance with her, at Balthazar’s party. She wants to be close to her and move, awkward in a way that Jaquie inexplicably finds endearing and twine their hands together.

A night without rules and yet.

Chelsey has the camera in her hands and Jaquie isn't looking at her; she's talking to Rosa, Stan’s sister, and it's all Freddie can do not to stare.

“You’re pining,” Kit points out, not unkindly.

“Excuse me?”

“I don't get it, why are you so intent on making yourselves miserable?” Kit says; Freddie doesn't have her defenses up around Kit like she does around other people, because he has the terrifying ability to see right through her, so she tells the truth.

“We’re in too deep now,” Freddie replies, sincere and grim.

“Ah,” Kit says. “Pride.”

“She doesn't deserve it,” Freddie says.

“No, she doesn't,” Kit agrees softly and leaves her there with her guilt.

+

“This won't be forever,” Freddie tells Jaquie after the party, in the kitchen. “Just for as long it takes for everyone to get their shit together.”

Jaquie grimaces; Freddie can't help but laugh at that, because she doesn't have all that much faith either.

Jaquie kisses her mid-laugh and Freddie thinks, _hey, this might all turn out okay._


End file.
